For Your Arms Only

by Caroline Linden

  He looked away, but she still caught the trace of a smile on his mouth. “If we are to cooperate in this, you should know that I prize honesty and truth above all else. The truth may be ugly at times, but it always comes out in the end, and often appears even uglier after being hidden. But I also value discretion. Nothing you tell me about your father shall ever be repeated except in pursuit of the truth, and then only with as much care as possible.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Perhaps he had been trying to do that, fluster and disarm her. Perhaps he wanted her to lose her temper and say what she meant to conceal. She stole a glance at him as he drove, and wondered if perhaps he had a better idea what he was about than she thought. Honesty and truth above all else…

  “Where may I set you down?” He reined in the horse, slowing to a walk.

  She jerked her eyes to the front and realized they had reached town. “Oh—anywhere. Thank you for the ride.”

  He stopped the gig in front of the millinery. Cressida grabbed her skirts and jumped down before he could help her. She hesitated, then turned back. “Thank you also for what you said about truth and honesty. I do not treat Papa’s disappearance lightly or carelessly, I assure you. It’s just that…Well, Papa has a penchant for going off without leaving word, and I am reasonably sure this will prove just another of those times if we simply wait.”

  He had listened in silence, propping his elbow on his knee to lean down to her. “Are you prepared to wait it out?”

  She fiddled with the ribbon of her bonnet. “No. Not any longer.” She looked up at him. He had the most inscrutable face, and a way of looking at her that made her feel utterly exposed, as if he was determined to discover every last thing about her. It was alarming and, she was appalled to acknowledge, a little thrilling. Men did not look at her that way. “But it is a tremendous service to ask of a complete stranger, who must have cares and concerns of his own…” Nervously she stopped. He had to know what she meant.

  “But the service is sincerely offered, and any debt you owe is to Hastings, not to me. Remember that as you consider. Three days?” She jerked her head yes. Major Hayes smiled at her, his eyes lit with an unsettling light as he tipped his hat. “Until then, Miss Turner.”

  “Yes,” she whispered as he drove away. She gulped in a deep breath and pressed a trembling hand to her cheek. Three days. She had three days to decide if she could endure more of his presence, or if she dared refuse it. Cressida had no idea how she was going to decide. He rattled her…but she felt like a fool turning down any help, particularly from someone who appeared quite capable. He had managed to make everyone think him dead for five years, and avoided being hanged for treason even though everyone knew he was guilty, which must have taken some cunning. Apparently he knew how to steal horses, and he was quite brilliant at making her lose her temper. Compared to all that, finding one missing man would be like child’s play to him.

  She sighed and started toward the apothecary. A week ago she would have said it didn’t matter, that she would accept help from the devil himself if it brought back her father and saved them all from ruin. She just hadn’t thought the devil would take her up on it.

  Chapter 7

  Cressida!” She jumped, startled out of her thoughts, and looked up to see Julia Hayes hurrying toward her. A smile bloomed on her face at the sight of her friend, and she turned to meet her. “What were you doing with him?”

  Julia’s tone took her by surprise. “Major Hayes? He passed me on the road and offered me a ride.”

  Julia took her arm and turned away, casting a dark glance in the direction her brother had disappeared. “I thought he would have the sense—” She sniffed, and started down the street, pulling Cressida with her. “If only he’d go back to wherever he’s been hiding these last five years.”

  Even though she might have wished the same thing, Cressida was shocked to hear it from Julia. She hadn’t seen her since word of the major’s return had spread, but she had assumed Julia would be pleased by her brother’s reappearance—by the fact that he wasn’t actually dead, at the very least. “Why do you say that? Aren’t you pleased he’s returned?”

  Julia shook her head. “It would be better for everyone if he had not.”

  “But he’s your brother…”

  Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry to be so short-tempered.” She made a visible effort to shake off her ire, and smiled. “I should have said I am so pleased to see you. How are your sister and your grandmother?”

  “They are both well, thank you.” Cressida looked over her shoulder; the major was long gone. It occurred to her that this was a golden opportunity to ask someone she knew and trusted about the major. “I am very glad to meet you,” she went on. “I wanted to ask you about Major Hayes—”

  Julia’s smile faded. “Whatever for?”

  “He came to call on us the other day,” Cressida replied, leaving out any mention of his first visit. No one else needed to know about that, if she could help it. “He said he had come to help search for my father.”

  Julia stopped dead and gaped at her. “What? Why? Does he know your father?”

  “No, not at all. But he said he was asked by Lord Hastings, whom Papa had gone to see, to offer his aid in looking for Papa.”

  This was clearly news to Julia. “Lord Hastings?” she repeated. “Who is he? How would Alec know him?”

  “Lord Hastings was a commissary officer Papa knew in the war. Papa was very hopeful Lord Hastings might recommend him for a position he wanted.”

  “Oh. The army.” Julia still looked puzzled, but then her expression grew grimmer. “Then that’s why Alec’s come home. Has the army known all along where he was, I wonder? And after the things they told my mother…” She broke off and pressed her lips together.

  Cressida hesitated. “Should I not trust him, then? Callie thinks I’m mad to hesitate, no matter what…Well, it is what we wanted, having someone sent by Lord Hastings to discover where Papa has gone.” It was unsettling to realize how much she had hoped Julia would put her worries to rest, and declare Major Hayes trustworthy and the victim of terrible lies and injustice. The notion of someone riding to their rescue and locating her errant father was appealing, even if the person of Major Hayes shredded her nerves. If Julia defended him, her decision in three days would be that much clearer.

  Looking troubled, Julia shook her head. “I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I simply don’t know him anymore. Before…” She glanced around and lowered her voice, and they resumed walking, leaning their heads close together. “Well, he was as wild as any young man, I suppose, although I was a girl at the time and thought him simply brilliant. He was so dashing and so daring, always in the thick of trouble but so much fun. He was in love with Marianne, you know, and we all thought she would marry him; every girl in Marston was mad in love with him.” Cressida’s eyes widened. “But he had joined the army by then, and while he was gone, Frederick fell in love with her and she with him. When Alec came home, there was a horrible row; he said awful things. Freddie of course just listened quietly, as he always did, and then Alec went back to the army. Before—Before Waterloo, we always heard such grand reports of him as an officer, how fearless and capable he was. Twice he was mentioned in Wellington’s dispatches for his bravery, to my father’s immense pride. But then of course that all changed, and now…I just don’t know. How could a man disappear for five years and let his family think him dead—and worse?” The bitterness was creeping back into her voice. “It killed my father. He was ill when Alec left, and the news that Alec was missing and presumed dead was devastating enough. But then, to hear he had been a traitor…The shame killed Father, I know it. And now Alec’s just reappeared, without one word of explanation or contrition, and I cannot forgive him for it. He seems to think we’ve all been waiting for him to come home and will go on as if nothing has changed.”

  “He must have a reason,” said Cressida slowly. Sh
e wasn’t precisely defending the major, but put that way, the major’s disappearance sounded uncomfortably like her own father’s “expeditions.” Except for the bit Julia had left out, the part about treason. Surely that demanded some sort of explanation.

  “Not one he’s condescended to tell us. He’s upended everything, and only Mother is happy about it. The rest of us don’t know what to say or do around him, and he seems not to notice or care.”

  “Perhaps if you tell him…” Cressida thought of her father again, who never seemed to understand how much his absences upset the family routine. Of course, her grandmother was just waiting for him to reappear, and she would act as if nothing had changed. More than once Cressida had been obliged to swallow her own impertinent remarks after one of Papa’s expeditions. “Perhaps he hasn’t yet realized how his return affected everyone.”

  “It would pain my mother if I said anything. She’s been revived since we received word he was still alive and well, and would banish me to live in the stables if I ruined her joy and happiness.” Julia smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to listen to me ramble on about sordid family matters.”

  Cressida flipped one hand. “As if you haven’t listened to me complain in my turn! Who can one complain to, if not to one’s friends?”

  Julia laughed. “Indeed! But you asked me a question, and I fear I cannot answer. Once upon a time, there was no one like Alec for achieving the impossible. He thrived on it, in fact; let Freddie or Will Lacey say a shot could not be made or a horse could not be ridden, and Alec would risk his neck to do it. Father used to say he was indestructible. Five years ago I would have sworn he could do anything he undertook, and that you could wager your life on his word. But can you trust him now? I don’t know, Cressida.”

  Cressida sighed. This was certainly complicating her view of the major. “Thank you anyway, Julia.”

  “If you find you cannot trust him, why, you could always write to Lord Hastings again and express your disappointment.” Julia looked grim again. “No doubt Lord Hastings will be able to guess why.”

  Cressida managed another weak smile, knowing she wouldn’t dare do that.

  “Oh. I nearly forgot.” Julia sighed. “Or rather, I wanted to forget. Mother is having a party. Not a ball, because of Freddie, but a small party, because of Alec. She’s desperate to reestablish him in Marston’s eyes, after all the scandal broth brewed here over him. Do say you’ll come.”

  Her face burned. A party, at the beautiful Penford estate? Even if she had a gown worth wearing, she wasn’t certain she was ready to face the major again. She would move to the workhouse before she submitted herself to his probing gaze in her plain blue calico. “Oh, no. I don’t know your brother at all, and would be completely out of place.”

  “Nonsense.” Julia squeezed her hand. “It has nothing to do with who knew him then, or now. Mother won’t be inviting certain people who were cold to her after he went missing, you may depend on that—and there are plenty of them, no doubt all perishing of curiosity now that he’s returned. She’ll only have people who bear him no ill will, and I told her to add your family to the list.” Still Cressida hesitated, and Julia added, “Perhaps it will give you a chance to decide if you want his help or not. Please say you’ll come. It’s to be this Saturday evening.”

  Cressida bit her lip. Julia must not realize how poor they had become. She meant the invitation kindly and sincerely, and ordinarily Cressida would have accepted with pleasure. Still…“I’ll consider it,” she said, clinging to the scraps of pride she had left.

  Julia beamed. “Excellent! I will see you then.” She said farewell and walked in the direction Major Hayes had gone. Cressida turned slowly back toward the apothecary shop for Granny’s tonic. Her frail little grandmother was fading away. Perhaps for that reason alone she should accept the major’s help: seeing Papa return home would be good for Granny, who fretted over his absence daily. For Granny’s sake, she could endure the major’s presence, couldn’t she?

  She shook herself. Three days—and perhaps an evening at Penford.

  Alec felt the notice of the townspeople as he drove through town. Marston was tiny, and by the time he reached the stationer’s shop where his mother had told him to look for Julia, it seemed the entire populace was watching him either openly or covertly. He ignored it, tying up the horse and removing his hat as he went into the shop.

  Old Darnley’s was the same as he remembered it, smelling of clean paper and ink. Alec remembered being sent here as a boy to fetch things for his mother, more as a way to occupy him than because of his mother’s pressing need for ink. Now, as then, Darnley was perched on his high stool at the back of the shop. He looked up at the bell, his round pink face beaming, until he saw Alec. Then the smile froze, just for a moment, but long enough to set Alec’s teeth on edge. He forced a polite expression to his face and stepped forward.

  “Good day, sir. I am looking for my sister, Miss Hayes.”

  Relief flashed in Darnley’s eyes. “Oh yes, bless me, she was here not too long ago. I expect she’s just gone around the corner or next door.”

  “Thank you.” Alec glanced around the shop. “Your shop is exactly as I remember it, Mr. Darnley. I feel as though I should ask for some ink and a new nib, for my mother.”

  Mr. Darnley chuckled, his expression easing a bit. “Why yes, she did send you here quite frequently. I had to wrap those bottles of ink very well, if I recall correctly.”

  Alec smiled. He had climbed trees and walked along stone walls on the way home, and more than one bottle of ink had cracked open in his pocket in the process. “Yes, I remember. Many a pair of trousers and stockings had to be thrown out after I fetched ink from you. My mother said it was often not worth the effort of sending me.”

  Darnley laughed, his face creasing into well-worn lines as he pressed his palms to his apron. He hesitated. “May I welcome you home, sir.”

  The lighthearted memory faded. Alec inclined his head. “Thank you. Next door, you say?”

  “Yes, yes, she was here only moments ago.” Darnley hurried to open the door for him, still smiling and nodding, but Alec felt the man’s relief like a wisp of cold air. He stepped back into the street and looked left and right. Darnley hadn’t said which direction Julia might have gone. He scanned the faces, not seeing his sister’s, until his gaze snagged on a plain straw bonnet with a bright scarlet ribbon.

  Alec admitted he was quite curious to see what three days would add to Miss Turner’s opinion of him. He wondered what she expected to learn in that time. Of his past in Marston, there was plenty to hear; he had been a hellion as a lad, and even into his army career. Of his alleged betrayal at Waterloo, there was also no doubt plenty to hear, but Alec suspected she had already heard most of it. Of the last five years, and what sort of man he was now…of that there was precious little anyone in Marston or anywhere else could tell her. And sadly, that had far more bearing on what he could do for her now than anything she might discover about the hellion or the traitor.

  He started down the street, intending to look into each shop as he passed in search of Julia. Miss Turner’s bonnet was still visible, thanks to her height. She was slowly strolling down the street with another lady, leaning her head down to her shorter companion’s. Perhaps that was part of his fascination with her; she could almost look him in the eye, something few women could do. He smiled a little, thinking of looking into her glorious eyes again, and then he finally recognized the lady at her side.

  Now what could Julia be telling her? It was unlikely to improve him in Miss Turner’s eyes, given his sister’s animosity. Perhaps it was something wholly unrelated to him, although Alec found that unlikely. It was unfortunately obvious that his return was the most momentous event of some time in Marston. Even now, as he walked down the street, people drew away from his path, darting curious but nervous glance at each other and avoiding his gaze. He hated it. He hated feeling like an oddity. He hated the fact that everyone want
ed to stare at him, but no one would speak to him unless forced to do so. And he truly hated the fact that for some unknown reason, he cared what Miss Turner thought of him, and hoped that Julia was chattering about fashion instead of venting her spleen against him.

  He just caught a glimpse of Miss Turner’s bonnet again as she went into the apothecary shop. Julia had turned his way, and seen him. Her face set, she was striding toward him, a package from Darnley in her arms. Alec stopped and waited, bowing his head as she approached.

  “I suppose Mother sent you,” she said.

  “She worried you would be caught in the rain.”

  Julia cast her eyes upward. The sky had been overcast all day, but not one raindrop had fallen. “Of course,” she said dryly. “Well, let’s be off.”

  Alec kept his face clean of expression and followed her to the gig. Julia climbed in without waiting for him to give her a hand up, and he made no comment. He untied the horse and swung up beside her.

  Neither spoke until they were out of town, bowling down the same road he had just traveled with Miss Turner. Alec thought again of her face, of those expressive eyes and the way they flashed at him when he questioned her motives. Whatever else she thought of him, Miss Turner wasn’t afraid to look at him or talk to him. Three days…

  “I could have walked, you know,” Julia announced. She still stared straight ahead.

  “Mother thought it better if you didn’t.”

  “Odd,” she replied. “She hasn’t minded for the last several years.”

  Alec said nothing. He knew very well his mother had sent him in hopes that this forced companionship would revive his and Julia’s affectionate relationship of old. Personally, he doubted anything would. Not because Julia had made no secret of her anger at him, but because he had changed so much in five years, he didn’t know how to respond to it. He and Julia had always been much alike, both hot-tempered and impulsive, given to speaking their minds and apologizing later. There had been no reserve between them, for good or for ill.